


Hold My Hand (oh baby it's a long way down to the bottom of the river)

by Nottodaylogic (MandaloreArtist), redlipstickkisses (owldork1998), Reynaskywalker



Series: Here there be Mermaids [2]
Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Claustrophobia, Claustrophobic Mermaids, Claustrophobic Owen Carvour, Fluff, Holding Hands, M/M, Mermaids, Mermaids are mammals fight me, Pirates, Pirates and Mermaids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 06:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20059594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MandaloreArtist/pseuds/Nottodaylogic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/owldork1998/pseuds/redlipstickkisses, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reynaskywalker/pseuds/Reynaskywalker
Summary: "Thank you,” he whispered into the all-but-quiet room. Owen wasn’t just talking about the hand.





	Hold My Hand (oh baby it's a long way down to the bottom of the river)

**Author's Note:**

> Look I just wanted claustrophobic mammal mermaids that hold hands while they sleep so they don't float away

Owen had never liked small spaces, even before the open ocean became his home. Once he hadn’t minded the presence of walls, even if he had favored the open water. Now though, after years of the endless expanse of water above and below him, he felt like he was suffocating. The glass walls of the tank pressed against him, smooth and unyielding and far too close. It was so small he could barely move, he couldn’t even stretch out fully. The water was stale and motionless, full of shed scales and other waste, stagnant and lifeless.

He felt like he was suffocating, despite Curt being there to prop the lid of his prison open and leaving it off whenever possible. He felt like a fish caught in a bubble net, utterly surrounded and completely powerless. 

Nightfall was the worst, though. 

Owen had never slept without something secure to hold onto—a rock, a sibling, a floating log. Even in the cramped tank, the absence was a hole in his chest, keeping him from sleep, and it was all he could do to try to manage it on his own. In the tank there was nothing to cling to, nothing to hook his fingers around to keep from drifting away, except for the shackles that had almost killed him so many times. He had never felt so completely and utterly isolated.

Except he wasn’t alone and that somehow made it worse. 

Curt rapped on the glass wall to attract Owen’s attention and Owen fought a flinch at the unexpected noise. “Why are you hugging the chain of your shackle? Isn’t that, like, painful?” 

Owen frowned, ignoring the way the chain dug into his hands uncomfortably. “It’s not  _ hugging,  _ Curt.” 

Owen let go of the chain—which he was  _ holding,  _ not  _ hugging _ —and propped himself over the top of his tank to get a better look at Curt. Owen squinted at the way the air made him feel like seaweed left to bake in the sun and made his head ache. It was as bad as the murky water of the tank, just a different type of torture. “It’s  _ anchoring _ .”

“Huh.” Curt tilted his head. “Why?” 

_ Right.  _ Owen had almost forgotten he was dealing with Curt here, also known as the One Who Knew Nothing. “To keep from floating away. We used to sleep holding onto each other, my sister and I. She didn’t really need to, of course, being a  _ rusalka,  _ but...” He was hit with a wave of sorrow as he wrapped his arms around himself. He missed his sister and the open waters they had called home. 

“Rusalka?” Curt asked distracting Owen yet again and Owen fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“What are you a parrot?” There was no real bite in his voice, despite the implied edge to the words, just aching loneliness. “She wasn't born, she was turned.” Curt still looked confused, so he continued, “it means she has gills.”

“Oooh.” Despite the sound Owen had a feeling Curt was just as lost as he had been before Owen had explained. The quiet was shattered as someone hammered on the door shouting at them to shut their traps.

They were a bit more careful with whispering after that, reluctant to attract further attention from their captors. Curt leaned against the tank while Owen pressed himself against the glass. Owen didn’t think he would ever be used to the sensation. Despite the months he had spent trapped in his own filth the undeniable, immovable, presence of glass was still so alien to him. It was warm where Curt rested against it, an imitation of something that would comfort him. 

He curled against the warmer spot, craving any difference from the lukewarm, oily water that surrounded him. It reminded him of the hotspots they would find, a welcome relief from the frigid cold of the ocean. Owen had almost drifted to sleep, back to Curt, chain tangled in his fingers when Curt broke the silence, startling him awake. 

“You could maybe hold my hand?” Curt offered softly. “Holding your chain can’t be comfortable.”

Owen blinked several times, the words taking an unusually long time to process. He was so tired. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You said you need something to anchor you.” Curt blushed. “I wouldn’t mind if—if you used me for that.”

“Oh” Owen felt his own face warm as he swallowed, throat dry. He raised a hand, suddenly all to aware of just how disgusting the water in his tank was and the way his tears made his hand slick and oily. 

Curts hand was almost unpleasantly dry against Owen’s skin, with calluses rough against his skin. Owen didn’t mind. For the first time since he had been captured he felt truly anchored. He wished that if he closed his eyes he could pretend he was home, fingers laced with Tatiana’s as the currents lulled them to sleep. He couldn’t though. Curt’s hand was too large, too dry, too  _ human _ , to be Tatiana; but it was comforting in a way that only the knowledge that you were not alone could be.

“Thank you,” he whispered into the all-but-quiet room. Owen wasn’t just talking about the hand. 


End file.
